


Color

by Squid_Ink



Series: The Eagle and the Cross [9]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Altair and Ezio are Connor's buddies, Gen, I have no life or soul, Inspired by a picture, This is kinda angsty, Umar is Altair's dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-18 23:00:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5946601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squid_Ink/pseuds/Squid_Ink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haytham takes a break to color with his son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Color

"Dada." Tiny figures prod his side. "Dada." The fingers are more urgent in their prodding. "Dada." Again the tiny fingers poke him, insisting that he give their own his undivided attention. "Dada!" Poke. Poke. Poke. Go the fingers into his side, demanding with all the importance of a two-year-old child. He tells himself that he mustn't snap at the boy. That if he does his wife will scold him and make him sleep on the couch for the night. Yet, he finds it difficult to concentrate on his work, when tiny little fingers are jabbing him constantly in the side. "Dada!" The fingers poke him again.

"Not now, son," Haytham grumbles, and pushes the little hand away from his side. There is a brief moment of silence and he wonders if the fingers will resume their poking. Thankfully they don't, instead the bothersome child squirms his way beneath the desk and then attempts to wriggle his way into Haytham's lap.

"Ow," the boy grumbles, hitting his head on the underside of the desk. Haytham peers down at his lap, his son attempting to climb up his legs. "Dada," the boy says, a wide grin on his face.

"Connor, what in heaven's good name are you doing?" Haytham asks, baffled by his son's insistence on getting his attention. Haytham pushes himself away from the desk just enough that Connor can worm his way into his lap. "Now you be good and—"

Connor slaps down his coloring book and crayons over Haytham's, gives Haytham his most winning smile before he begins to color a giraffe and sing a song he made up, the lyrics a convoluted mix of Mohawk and English. "Connor, I can't work with you doing this," Haytham says as he picks up his son and goes to set him down. Connor gets fussy, kicking his legs and babbling in a mix of Mohawk and English.

Haytham sighs, returns Connor to his lap and hands the boy his coloring book, propping it up against the desk. "Now, let me work," Haytham says, his tone stern as he goes back to meddling through countless legal documents. Connor is pacified for the moment, but soon his coloring book appears back up on the desk, the nonsense song resumes and interrupts Haytham's work once more. "Connor Kenway, I am trying to get work done!" Haytham growls, and lifts his son up off his lap.

Connor pouts, looking between his coloring book, father and the floor. He holds out a crayon to Haytham. "Color?" he asks, a puppy-look on his face. Haytham sighs, realizing that if he were to get work done it'll be during Connor's nap time. He glanced at the clock, his wife normally puts their son down for a nap around three, the clock read one o'clock.

"Alright," Haytham says, setting Connor down on his lap again. He takes another crayon and begins to color the tree the giraffe is eating. He starts humming along to Connor's nonsense song; soon he's singing it, stumbling over the Mohawk bits with all the grace of an elephant performing ballet. That's how Ziio finds them upon her return, grocery bags in hand.

"Having fun, I see," she chimes, a brilliant smile on her face.

"Ista!" Connor is the first to notice her, jumping off Haytham's lap (after he rams his knee into Haytham's groin in the attempt). He begins to babble at her in rapid streams of the convoluted mix of Mohawk and English, and Haytham realizes that the boy would never pick up any decent amount of English if he's always at the office. Not that Connor couldn't speak English. Haytham makes a mental note to spend more time at home, if only to expose Connor to English more. The boy is only two. Haytham gets up and helps Ziio unload the rest of the groceries, Connor being underfoot while they do so, relaying the day to his mother in his innocent toddler babble.

* * *

_Fifteen years later_

Haytham jumps, startled and looks up to see his towering teenage son, just a bit shy of six feet. The doctor assures them that Connor will have another growth spurt soon. He plays football on the high school team, tackling people. Haytham doesn't pay attention the rules, but shows up to the games and cheers on his son. He doesn't really approve of his son hanging out with Ezio or Altaïr, but he knows both Giovanni and Umar, so he allows it. He also doesn't approve of Connor dating Aveline de Grandpré, who's twenty-one and in college and a terrible influence on his impressionable son, but he works with Aveline's step-mother and she's a decent woman, so he allows it. "What?" Haytham asks his son.

"You're working too hard old man," Connor sits down opposite Haytham and flips open the coloring book he bought at the bookstore. It was one of those fancy coloring books aimed at adults to help reduce stress. "Color?" Connor offers Haytham a colored pencil and Haytham can't help but remember all those years ago when his son was small and completely innocent of the cruelties of the world outside their home. When Ziio still made dinner and summer vacation was a month long family camping trip at the Mohawk Reservation and involved eating various bugs and campfire stories while watching meteorite showers, licking chocolatey goo off their fingers from s'mores. Before Ziio died in a freak car crash one rainy day in June and Haytham spirited himself and son away to England for the entire summer, since everything in their Boston home reminded him of Ziio.

"Connor, I'm working," Haytham protests, gesturing to the paperwork littered across the desk.

"Right," Connor looks away, and Haytham wonders if Connor blames him for making Ziio drive that day to pick him up from Altaïr's. "You're always working." Connor mumbles, and Haytham realizes with sickening clarity that on some level Connor does blame him and Haytham wonders if Ziio would still be alive if he had only gone to pick up their son that day instead of her.

"I can leave it for a few hours," Haytham says reluctantly, setting down his pen and scooting over to his son. _Life is precious,_ his father once told him, _you need to stop and smell the roses once in a while,_ Haytham. He picks up a green pencil and begins to color in the seaweed of tangled in the mermaid's hair. "You and Aveline haven't done… anything I should be concerned about? I'm not going to be a grandfather any time soon?" Haytham asks, unsure how to talk with his son.

Connor flushes and looks away. "She _is not_ my girlfriend, Dad!"

**Author's Note:**

> Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft
> 
> And yeah…
> 
> No Sexual Sunday today. I don't feel up to it. Have no plan, so I wrote this. Plus, I'm bummed because I wanted to write this really cool fantasy short story for English, but I told my mom the basic plot of it was a retrieval quest (for those who play fantasy RPGs you know the time, go into a cave, defeat the boss monster at the end, get the magic item, head back to town) and she said that didn't sound like a very exciting story idea, so all my motivation to write it died. So, I rehashed a story from last quarter. I actually want to submit this story, so it'll be good to get new eyes on it.
> 
> And I write this story in present tense, which I normally don't do, but it turned out pretty good. Which reminds me of my SasuSaku vampire AU a long time ago… I liked Sakura in that one.
> 
> Save an author; leave a review!
> 
> If you don't, Charles Lee will get away!


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